“That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. . . " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Not if I read her aright. ‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. I didn’t know he had Italian relatives.
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