The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. I knew him in spite of his dress. He began to tell me something—and stopped. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. Another car followed, a rusty Cadillac sedan full of kids. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. It’s—it’s a social difference. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face.
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