“Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. " Mrs. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. ” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks.
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