But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. The vicomte must be well known to those high-born who have gone to England. “Bless you, sweetheart. I’ve always wanted to look older. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels.
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