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Malet, Lucas, 1852-1931

"Deadham Hard"

No one would be aware of her sacrifice. She would only gain
the satisfaction of knowing she had done the perfectly right and generous
thing by two persons who would never share that knowledge.--She
blushed.--Heaven forbid they ever should share it--and thank her.
"Mrs. Frayling--I don't want"--
Miss Felicia stopped.
"What don't you want?"--This from Damaris over her shoulder, the pause
being prolonged.
"To set you against her, darling"--
"I think," Damaris said, "I know all about Henrietta."
"She insinuates so much," Miss Felicia lamented.--"Or seems to do so. One
grows wretchedly suspicious of her meaning. Perhaps I exaggerate and
misjudge her.--She is quite confusingly adroit; but I extremely disliked
the way in which she spoke of Colonel Carteret."
Damaris bent a little forward, holding her skirt back from the scorch of
the fire, her eyes still downcast.
"How did she speak of him?"
"Oh! all she said was very indirect--but as though he had not played
quite fair with her on some occasion.


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