" "You are heiress to the Trenchard property," rejoined Jonathan, "one of the largest estates in Lancashire. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. . She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. “Forgive me,” he said. Fell to sin, did Martha. “But you must forgive me, John. “Let’s go home. ‘Certainly you may have me under guard. Now I require it, only that I may stop this pig from ruining all.
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