‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. She turned quickly. Before her was a great Gothic portal. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat.
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