She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. Kneebone and Mr. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Hey. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm.
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