“I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. “We have to be— modern. It was her job to keep the house as neat as a pin, up to the high standard that Sheila expected, being a nurse. "Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature.
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