The chair had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. And I’d do it again for you if needs be. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. It isn’t pretty, but we’re made so. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both.
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