“You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo.
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