"But, though the storm has spared him, I will not. Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. "He called me a wanton, Hoddy. I could make away with him at once, as you are about to make away with your nephew, Sir Rowland,—but that wouldn't serve my turn.
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