Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you. ’ Lucilla sat up. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. “You have them both,” Anna answered. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair.
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