Apparently she was always doomed to weep when she talked to her father. ’ ‘Addlepated imbecile, Hilary,’ corrected Gerald calmly. He looked half at her and half at the sky. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. ’ ‘Ah, you know about that, then?’ ‘That much, yes. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes.
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