There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. They put her down, and she leaped at them; she smote a helmet to the ground. And I have seen work by his pupils myself that struck me as being—well, next door to shameful.
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