A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. He called a waiter. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. "I have nothing to forgive. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. A sob was strangled in her throat.
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