’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. Small blame to her. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway.
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