He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her.
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