***Doris glanced around but could not see her footman, Marcel, close by. Wretched creature, he’d likely spied someone pretty and been lured away by her come hither smiles. She would speak to him again later, reminding him of his responsibilities and the generous salary she paid him. She faced the family again, just in time to see the little girl throw her kite to the ground, clench her fists, and turn her face up to show her displeasure. The man was patient; he ignored her howls of inarticulate outrage. From what Doris could see the little girl had so knotted the kite strings she was sure they would need repair before it could fly again.
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