While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. He has a grand time. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not.
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