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” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. Vorsack would just have to live with it. ‘Something in that, missie.
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