She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. The ladder was now within reach. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. Do you expect me, I wonder.
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