‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice.
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