He thought it best to let the matter drop. I have always managed to survive, haven’t I?” She was eager to stop talking about her parents. It stunned her. 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. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck.
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