"Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. She fidgeted and looked away. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. The baby was placed in her 19 lap.
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