“Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls.
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