The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. “After all,” she said, “if this person will not be reasonable, I am afraid——” It was enough. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered.
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