Wood trembled. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. She took Mr. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. The ball passed over his head, and lodged in the ceiling. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you.
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