“I hate this!” Lucy accused him, pointing to the Michelle. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. “What?” He replied. Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls.
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