Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. She slipped on a white clingy imitation silk tee-shirt, a sexy number that Shari had bought on super-sale at the Limited. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees.
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