Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. “We’ve never known anyone who can play like you, Lucy. ” Her breath left her for a moment. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters.
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