They were sitting alone, Lucy. “He is addressing a meeting of his constituents somewhere,” Annabel answered. We both understood that. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. The eldest, Constance, was lost, by the carelessness of a servant, during her infancy, and has never since been heard of: the youngest, Aliva, is the present Lady Trafford.
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