The air was pungent and leaden. ‘I know just what he was doing. She recalled him. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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