‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. I did all for the best, I'm sure. Sir John hesitated. He heard me; but he never came in to ask what was the matter. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot.
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