The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. ‘I did not send you a card because in the normal way of things you rarely attend such affairs. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. ” After all, it was not so easy. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain.
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