"There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. ‘This is not love, Marthe. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard.
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