‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. ’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. ‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. Mr. Petite build, like herself. And some were adorned with engravings that struck her as being more vulgar and undesirable than anything she had ever seen in her life. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her.
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