My only love is for my poor lost son. ’ ‘That is not your affair. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled.
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