The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. "They imagine their work is done. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. \" He leaned at a steeper pitch. “Very good,” he said. Pearls too! I mean it. . The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing.
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