‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. His face warm, Captain Roding glared them into silence, and firmly marched his captive off down Piccadilly, heading for Stratton Street where the town house of the Alderley family was situated. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. “Let’s hope your successor is worthy of you.
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