’ ‘For God’s sake,’ protested his junior. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. She sat perfectly still, however. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. ’ The pathetic sob which accompanied the last word had a signal effect on two of the company at least.
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