A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. “Now, there, there. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham.
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