" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ‘I did not think so. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. The dining saloon was done in mahogany and sandalwood, with eight cabins, four to port and four to starboard. She reached for the door handle. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man.
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