” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. Spurlock grew cold. But he was always forcing her to say and do such unexpectedly conclusive things. Oh, it was very bad. 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. She felt his tongue press into her mouth. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out.
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