He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. They were only passers-by. Bête, she told herself fiercely. ” She passed out without reply.
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