The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said.
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