The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him.
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