‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. He knows everything. “I thought I was just up against Morningside Park and father, but it’s the whole order of things—the whole blessed order of things. CHAPTER XVI. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. Otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately.
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