‘But I have been perfectly honest about that. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer.
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