He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. F. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control.
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