If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. “All day. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. No doubt she was wondering what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. Each time a daughter had been born to him he had concealed his chagrin with great tenderness and effusion from his wife, and had sworn unwontedly and with passionate sincerity in the bathroom.
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