I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Your adoptive father understands mankind better. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. Michelle helped her mother clear the table and Lucy thanked her for the meal. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures.
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