Oddly, Sebastian chose to be charioteer. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “Is this a concession to Mrs. ToC Thames Darrell's fears were not, however, groundless. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. ” Sebastian replied merrily, his eyes fixed on the road. She saw how overworked he was. It is a serious accusation. He whispered in her ear. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. ” “You will make me horribly conceited,” he answered. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his.
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