She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t. ‘Dunderhead. The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side.
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