” Sir John turned towards the door. "What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. ‘Melusine, don’t sit there. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. “It isn’t anything to do with our times particularly. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged.
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