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Shortly a man descended laboriously. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. . ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that. She was making it up. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. Brendon suggests supper at the Carlton.
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