only link, and it was his avowed custom to select those of his migratory sheep who seemed worthy, and give them a few hours in
the pastures of the permanent. Tea at a Renaissance villa? Nothing had been said about it yet. But if it did come to that--how Lucy
would enjoy it!
A few days ago and Lucy would have felt the same. But the joys of life were grouping themselves anew. A drive in the hills with Mr. Eager and Miss Bartlett--even if culminating in a residential tea-party--was no longer the greatest of them. She echoed the raptures of Charlotte somewhat faintly. Only when she heard that Mr. Beebe was also coming did her thanks become more sincere.
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