"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. Drummond had made an abominable mistake. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. CHAPTER XVIII. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies.
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