‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. At that, the girl jumped up. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. Eight per cent.
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