“Here, dis is for you. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. “Well, you’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room, but did I show you the basement?” He asked. There was no one stirring in the flats.
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