Other girls gathered around like sheep. I'll send for Wu Fang. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. A pretty piece. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. "She has flown up stairs," replied the widow.
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