That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. wonderful. Still, one never could tell. An unwelcome idea came to him. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. ‘You make me talk, you make me talk. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. “He can’t be more than thirty.
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