But the current rumblings of internal discontent across the Channel were productive of unease in certain quarters. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. She found a little difficulty in beginning.
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