’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. “Anything is better than this—this stifled life down here. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs.
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