She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. No; she'd never go back. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. “He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. Kneebone! you would greatly oblige me by surrendering yourself.
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