‘Dear me. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. “Yeah. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. And I want him out of uniform. “I heard your voices, and the hall is draughty. Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. ” “Forget WHAT?” “And I said I wouldn’t. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. We have to hang about in the interval. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said. ‘He was very kind to me.
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