His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. ‘Who telled you that?’ ‘Do not ask me impertinent questions, but only go you and fetch this daughter here to me. ‘You are related to General Lord Charvill?’ ‘Monsieur le baron, he is my grandpére,’ she confirmed. ‘I am not in the least in a rage.
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