‘But he must have—’ ‘Nicholas Charvill never did anything he must do,’ Mrs Sindlesham said evenly. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him. That’s why he was so annoyed, you know. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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