It’s these damned novels. Her husband quickly joined the fray, making her giggle and laugh. "Mr. ” She said. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. ” She said fretfully. ” He declared that no book could be satisfactory that left a bad taste in the mouth, however much it seized and interested the reader at the time. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. " The walls were covered with racks of loaded rifles. . She obeyed, extending her arm. ‘C’est ridicule. 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. “Please stop fighting me.
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