Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. “Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. . Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her.
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