Her lips came together with an expression between contentment and the faintest shadow of a smile, her manner was one of quiet reserve, and behind this mask she was wildly discontented and eager for freedom and life. A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. “The Beck family has the cooking gene.
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