She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Arrived in the plantation she sat down with her back against a tree trunk. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. Still, one has to be reasonable. So is the chapel of All Souls at Oxford, and the great hall at Blenheim, and I don't know how many halls and chapels besides.
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