’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. "Her ladyship—" faltered the attendant. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. Spurlock mused over the previous night.
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