’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. He had never wanted daughters. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it.
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