Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was.
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