She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. " "Well, well—wait awhile," returned Quilt; "his lordship won't forget you. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. A door in this house opened upon the yard.
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