” Carolyn shushed him modestly. “You underestimate your own sickness, and the ill humors that struck you may strike again. ‘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. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity.
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