Spurling, drily. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. " "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this.
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