The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She looked around her. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. Panting with effort, she held her point menacingly at Gosse’s chest. “Something.
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