A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. 54 \"Yes?\" \"No one says 'Oh my word' anymore. ” “Very well,” he said. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. It was clear it must be to-morrow. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. "I rather fancy, as you Britishers say, that you know the nature of my visit?" "I'm an American.
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