Lucy looked about confusedly. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection. His tongue was hot. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly.
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