"It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back; but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford.
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