She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. Good-bye, aunt. " "Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. ‘Typical.
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