It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. " "The very idea is dreadful," whimpered Edgeworth Bess. He made a note of the idea and stored it away. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. Startled by the cry, as may be supposed, the attention of the whole congregation was drawn towards the quarter whence it proceeded. A species of vertigo seized him. Somehow logic could not explain her. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked.
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