Loving was better than that. Section 3. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. She rested her head upon his shoulder. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said.
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