133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. She had heard Alice talking and crying at the same time, a painful noise. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. I’ll announce myself.
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