The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber.
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