She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. Diable. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. ‘She wouldn’t tell me. One point was that she was to wear fancy dress in the likeness of a Corsair’s bride, and the other was that she was to spend whatever vestiges of the night remained after the dance was over in London with the Widgett girls and a select party in “quite a decent little hotel” near Fitzroy Square. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. “My word holds,” she said.
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