She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. The swelling in his limbs had also subsided. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat.
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