. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. I want you to turn me. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. It’s no half reform either.
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