“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. 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. ” “Have I done something wrong? Should I take you home?” “No. I must bless him before I die. ” Lucy cried, drawing attention from the somber crowd. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud.
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