" "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. “Damned Rascal!” he said. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. "I must go. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. Mrs. Satisfied that he had solved his difficulty, he proceeded to his room.
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