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. ‘Let’s see now. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. “Before I met you I was deluded into receiving upon friendly terms a man named Hill, who passed himself off as Meysey Hill the railway man, but who was in reality an Englishman in poor circumstances. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. Lucy marveled at the billiards table and the sauna.
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