At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. ‘More, I think,’ put in Madame, soulfully regarding the major, ‘because I have English, a little. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. Plote was sleeping or deaf. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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