Hoddy. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack.
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