" "Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford. O'Higgins followed him into the dining room. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
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