"By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. The tension was palpable. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. “No! I want to do without that.
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