“Turn me. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. ‘Sit down, won’t you?’ He crossed back to Roding and said low-voiced. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout.
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