Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. Thames did not try to cheer her. ’ ‘A French ghost?’ ‘Well, it ain’t a rat this time, Major, I can promise you that,’ Pottiswick had rejoined, his tone affronted. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. It generalized everything she put to it.
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