The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She fell into a pleasant dream of positions and work.
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