“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. I hated him. “Good-looking rascal she met at Worthing. "You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described. It is bad policy.
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