Send for Mr. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. ‘One would take it that the house had been ransacked. Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. ‘Precisely.
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