. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. I don’t. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door.
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