The young lady saw the change, and almost snorted. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. The doors were closed and barricaded, and the mob threatened to burst them open if Jack was not delivered to them. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times.
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