"You base ingrate," she added, in a whisper, as she flounced past Mr. Spurling, squeezing Jack's arm, and pushing him towards the door, "and, don't come here again. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew. She’s right upstairs. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment.
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