“I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. “Glad to see you in London. You are very kind. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. "As yet," pursued the stranger, "Sir Montacute had placed no limit to his son's expenditure. But supposing he is? Supposing he made but one misstep? Your island would be a haven of security. There’s no logic in these things.
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