. ” She stepped into the curtains as Martin stared daggers. “I ate their mother first. H’m. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. ‘And if you like, I will tell you why. Once more he was the searcher. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige.
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