Mrs. They’re too free for their innocence or too innocent for their freedom. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly.
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