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. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. I wanted to talk to you before when you first came to live here two years ago, but I never did. After all, that was life. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment. He kissed her cheek. “Hand me the Jergens lotion, will you? How’d it go with John?” She asked. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet.
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