"Poor Grace! I suppose you undeceived her."
"As to your influence? I told her it was paramount where it ought to
be."
"And where is that?"
"In the choice of carpets and curtains. It seems ours are almost too
good."
"Thanks for the compliment! Too good for what?"
"Our station in life, I suppose. At least they seemed to bother
Grace."
"Poor Grace! I've always bothered her." She paused, removing her
gloves reflectively and laying her long fine hands on his shoulders
as she stood behind him. "Then you don't believe in Ashford?"
Feeling his slight start, she drew away her hands and raised them to
detach her veil.
"What makes you think I don't believe in Ashford?" he asked.
"I asked out of curiosity. I wondered whether you had decided
anything."
"No, and I don't mean to for a week. I'm dead beat, and I want to
bring a fresh mind to the question. There is hardly one appointment
I'm sure of except, of course, Fleetwood's."
She turned away from him, smoothing her hair in the mirror above the
mantelpiece.
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