A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. “Do you need me to remind you that your patient is bleeding to death?” He dropped on his knees by the man’s side and made a hurried examination. Remember that. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively.
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