’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. “But—your people!” she gasped. CHAPTER XIX. You told me just now that you wished to speak a few words to me in private, concerning Thames Darrell, and for that purpose I have left my father below with Mr.
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