It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. ’ ‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly. Luckily, Mrs. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. She did not realize that she was offering criticisms. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. “Don’t be a hypocrite.
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