She passed inside and upstairs without a word. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. "So the wheelman told you? I've always spoken it, though I can neither read nor write it. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic.
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