At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. " The Wastrel laughed. ‘How is this? Proo-den-ss. ‘Eh bien, I will tell you. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall.
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