The sound of their strident voices floated upwards, the high nasal note of the predominant Americans, the shrill laughter of girls quick to appreciate the wit of such of their male companions as thought it worth while to be amusing. But you belong to me—and I want you. It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry.
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