You don’t happen to know of any one, I suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a clerk—without shorthand—or a tryer-on, or a copyist, or——” “For Heaven’s sake stop, Miss Pellissier,” he interrupted. There was an eerie sense of brooding menace about an uninhabited establishment. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica.
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