He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. ‘Ah, Madame Joan. Lucy arranged her hair as Michelle had taught her instead of combing it out. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. It was all highly intriguing.
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