With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Her heart full of dread, she dragged on it. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes. Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. Pah! Damned Frenchified—’ ‘If you say again,’ threatened Melusine, moving to meet him like a jungle cat poised for the kill, ‘this scorn of a thing French, monsieur le baron, I shall be compelled to give you this apoplexy of which she speaks, madame. “He is not—I don’t like him.
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