Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. You need give yourself no more concern about Kneebone. After dessert was finished, John took Lucy for a ride in his car. “I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously.
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