” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. " "But I never saw anybody more alive. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals.
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