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She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. There is no hidden beast in you, Hoddy. " "Well, think no more about it," returned Thames. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her.
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