The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. Just a formal marriage. ” Lucy said. " Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again.
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