"When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. Their example was immediately imitated by the officers, constables, javelin men, and other attendants; and nothing was to be heard but shouts of laughter and jesting,—nothing seen but the passing of glasses, and the emptying of foaming jugs. Michelle’s eyes darted around, she refused to look straight at Lucy.
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