” “I think,” Lady Lescelles said, putting down her teacup, “that I must send Nigel to plead his own cause. ” She shook her head gently. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. White Sears special-order orthopedic shoes, polyester pants, and cotton print blouses were her usual weekend attire. Also from the capital came news of grave fears for the safety of the royal family, who had moved there from Versailles. Sheppard, anxiously. "Where am I?" asked Spurlock.
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