\" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon.
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