” “I am going to ask more than a favour,” she said slowly. The manager twisted his moustache. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat.
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