What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins. Mr. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages.
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