" "You mustn't think of that, Mrs. " "Nonsense," returned Jonathan gruffly. ” Lucy replied. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. My very sentences stumble and give way.
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