’ ‘Don’t be a fool, woman,’ snapped Charvill, thrusting himself further into the room. The Night-Cellar. His foot tapped impatiently, and he took up the papers. There’s a great gulf opened, and nobody’s got any plans what to do with us. Stanley poured wine. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. The news that his granddaughter desired an audience Lord Charvill had greeted with merely a grunt, which turned into a roar as his gorge rose when he heard that she was accompanied by her husband.
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