Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. ” “Very well,” Anna said. ” Lucy tried to ignore her awareness that Mike’s ears had perked up.
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