Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. Their conversation hung.
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