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Updated: May 31, 2025
The slightest flicker of jealous resentment gleamed in Aleck's eyes, but his speech was as slow and precise as ever. "I was just trying to convince Miss Reynier that outdoor life has its peculiar joys," he said. "I was even now suggesting that she should dig, though not for silver. Does Mr. Lloyd-Jones' lucre seem more alluring than my little wriggly beasts, Miss Reynier?"
She included the two men in a friendly smile, waved a hand toward the waiting chairs, and adjusted a light shawl over the shoulders of Madame Reynier. But Aleck by this time had the bit in his teeth and would not be coaxed. His ordinarily cool eye rested wrathfully on the broad shoulders of Mr. Lloyd-Jones, who was lighting a cigarette, and he turned abruptly to Miss Reynier.
Mélanie regarded them a moment, and then said she thought they would do better in the drawing-room. "I sometimes think the little garden pink quite as pretty as an orchid." "They aren't so much in Mr. Lloyd-Jones' style as these," replied Madame Reynier. She had a faculty of commenting pleasantly without the least hint of criticism. This remark delighted Mélanie. "No; I should never picture Mr.
Lloyd-Jones as a garden pink. But then, Auntie, you remember how eloquent he was about the hills and the stars. That speech did not at all indicate a hothouse nature." "Nevertheless, I think his sentiments have been cultivated, like his orchids." "Not a bad achievement," said Mélanie.
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