She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. Mom, this is Lucy Albert from school. ’ Melusine withdrew her hand. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless.
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