You came out like an ant for your nuptial flight. ” She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. She pushed. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. “It’s—private.
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