‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. Both girls looked pale and listless. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. Like appendicitis.
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