"'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. . ’ Hilary stared. “The Widgetts,” she said. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. " "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson.
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