” “Oh, gimme a break, Lucy. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. . Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. To-night we leave for Marseilles. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. ” “It is very hard to explain,” he answered.
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