" As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. "Well, Lady Trafford," he said, fixing a severe look upon her.
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