After the dance, they went to a party. . ’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. ‘Eh bien, does that mean that you will do it again?’ ‘Not if I can help it,’ Gerald uttered, alarmed. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. " "It came from Lady Trafford's jewel-box.
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