The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. He was the junior of both his sisters, co-educated and much broken in to feminine society. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her.
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