It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. "These writer chaps are queer birds. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Gentlemen,—Mr. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind.
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