The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. “Come,” she said. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. Wood.
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