Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. . ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. “I have the right of the man who loves you,” he declared. That’s— that’s my private life. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. ‘I dare say the best plan will be for me to bring her to see you, after all. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed.
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