“What is the good of pretending?” she said. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm. Capes came back into her mind. Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace.
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