"What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. Lucy sat beside him. I’ve never had these crying fits before. He filled her glass with champagne. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. Sir John stood upon the threshold. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered.
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