The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. The Jacobite. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. 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.
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