She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. I tried it myself, Sir. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. ” She turned a firelit face to her husband. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John.
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