It was a simple wish. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. That was an admission all right. "I will have it now," rejoined Trenchard, "or our agreement is void. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands.
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