He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. “I’m fine,” she said softly. The work itself was refreshingly tonal, Sebastian observed. F. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes.
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