There was no rush. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. Placing chairs, therefore, he invited the ladies to be seated, and, paying a similar attention to Jack, began to help to the various dishes, and otherwise fulfil the duties of a host.
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