Sydney was watching her eagerly. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. In her endeavour to follow him, Aliva met with a severe fall, and was conveyed away, in a state of insensibility, by Sir Cecil. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. She was, she guessed, close to the library.
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