” She looked away from him. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. His perseverance was amply rewarded. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. When Sheila was in a good mood, one almost enjoyed her.
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