Trenchard glanced at the document. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. Her arms and feet were uncovered, and of almost skeleton thinness.
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