Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover.
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