” 209 Clotilde was no fool. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. Forthwith he presented his card. ‘Why, that’s it. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace.
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