‘Can I not leave you for a day without you getting yourself into trouble?’ ‘Imbecile,’ she uttered faintly. Maybe it’s his loss. There was little fighting spirit here. ‘But you have told them that I have been disguised, no? That I have broken into Remenham House, and—’ ‘No, no, child, don’t be alarmed,’ said her great-aunt, her tone soothing. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. ’ She counted off on her fingers.
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