And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. ’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. There you are, the best client’s chair. Kneebone nodded. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving himself for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow.
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