\" He mumbled, his eyes on her breasts. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. He is steeped in the conventions. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night.
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