Beethoven; he’s the best of them. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. “What a little brick!” he murmured. After all, this could never be the black sheep. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. His appearance excited the greatest astonishment and consternation amid the group.
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