" The Wastrel laughed. Jackson. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. That is all I ask. Wood started to his feet. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. “Nor am I now,” he answered.
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