All the turnkeys were assembled. Have you seen much of her lately?” “Nothing at all,” he answered. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said.
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