” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. Better get a dress. “Goodnight. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him.
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