" "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. *** Gerald vaguely noted that his junior leapt to his feet at sight of his former commander, and that Lucilla sat with her mouth at half-cock, dread in her face. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. Then she goes to a dramatic agent. I'll have no such toast drunk at my table!" "It's the king's birthday," urged the woollen draper. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step.
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