“What is the good of talking?” said her brother. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. She refrained.
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