Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. She is, in her way, a dear. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. With this view, he suffered him to pass on.
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