"You remember that starling, Sir Rowland," he said maliciously, "and what occurred on it, twelve years ago?" "Too well," answered the knight, frowning. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense.
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