That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. Mr. The news that his granddaughter desired an audience Lord Charvill had greeted with merely a grunt, which turned into a roar as his gorge rose when he heard that she was accompanied by her husband. “Here is my card. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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