Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road.
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