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 head out of the window. . . . Maman, you might give me acup of tea. Three lumps, you know, and no cream or lemon.

Laura's hand trembled as she lifted the pot.

So you tell her? Campaspe smiled.

Don't you, Mrs. Lorillard? You know maman never remembers anything, that is anything like that, do you, maman? I tell papa that she does not retain.

Mrs. Everest was too much upset for her lips to form words. She handed her harassing daughter her cup of tea, flavoured according to specifications, and Consuelo, after taking a sip, and emitting an involuntary, Um, it's good! turned again to Mrs. Lorillard, completely shutting out Mrs. Moody, who sat on the other side of the child.

Do tell me, please, she urged, a good book to read. I run through everything so quickly.

What have you been reading lately? Campaspe demanded.

O, everything in papa's library and maman's library, and the books Aunt Jessie gives me, and a few others besides, that I pick up here and there. You know papa never reads—Aunt Jessie once told me that he started The Old Wives' Tale the day after he and maman were married, and I'm sure he hasn't finished it yet—but he buys lots of books because he likes to have his library filled up, and so I climb about in there until I dig out something amusing.