‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. I secured the dog after he had wounded me. But—Miss Pellissier!” “Well?” “Are you quite sure that you want us this evening? Wouldn’t you rather be alone? Just say the word, and we’ll clear out like a shot. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair.
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