” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. Sebastian knew a dozen languages and could speak them fluently, plus he had an aptitude for numbers that Gianfrancesco did not. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. You are the one person I can understand and feel—feel right with. . ’ ‘It was so,’ said Valade, becoming a trifle more fluent.
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