“All the time he is shouting and muttering. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart.
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