’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. ‘I do not know the word in English. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. .
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