The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. .
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