“You are the Sir John Ferringhall who has bought the Lyndmore estate, are you not?” she remarked. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. ’ His brows rose. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them.
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