Perhaps it was loneliness. I can never be grateful enough. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. “Dyed!” “And your figure?” “One’s corsetière arranges that. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. " "Your father did right," replied Jack, with some bitterness.
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