‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. “Very well,” said her father. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. " She pursed her lips and uttered a whistle, piercingly shrill and high; and instantly she became the object of intense astonishment on the part of the other diners. You’re dealing with me now, not Gerald. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered.
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