It’s all right. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like! A Frenchie is what you are, and there ain’t no granddaughter Charvill no more. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. But though he made Blueskin and Kettleby his chief marks, he missed both.
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