The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. "Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. . One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool.
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