Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. Do sit down, dear boy. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. ” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face.
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