I tell you what, Mr. . ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. On beholding the intruders, his fears changed to exultation, and he uttered a roar of satisfaction as he glared at them, which could only be likened to the cry of some savage denizen of the plains. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Kicked out of there for something shady.
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