With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman. Non. She was the consummate mother, even when extremely tired, she missed nothing.
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