When he found himself thinking about it, it upset him so that he at once resorted to distraction. He refused. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. I said I’d do anything. ‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely. It was during Martin’s Violin Concerto that she was extraordinary.
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