“Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. " "As many as you please," replied Wood, walking towards the chimney-piece, and taking down a constable's, staff, which hung upon a nail. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. “Am I dull?” she said. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. It’s not far from twilight. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him.
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