’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. "The poor young man!" sighed Angelina. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. “What are you doing?” “Nothing. It was a moment before he recognised that the effect had been similar on all those present, including General Lord Charvill. Wait a moment. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. He's coming.
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