He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard's frame. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. He walked with bent head. “No!” she exclaimed. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude.
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