Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. ” “But what are you going to do—where are you going to live?” Annabel asked. Giles's bowl, "as his last refreshment on earth. ’ ‘I’ve a good mind to leave the pair of you to it and take myself off,’ threatened his junior, marching across the room and snatching up a decanter.
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