‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. And I get myself dirty.
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