They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. I do like to see old friends back here. Thankfully, he seemed pleased the moment he saw her face, which her mother had made her wash for weeks with the pulp of apples, orange water, and 21 extract of borage among other things. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. ’ He frowned again.
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