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Norris, Kathleen Thompson, 1880-1966

"The Story of Julia Page"

" He mentioned it. "And I've taken 'em for five years," he
added.
"For--eh?" She brought her sandy lashes together and studied him through
them. "You're rarely going to stay then, you nice child?"
"Yes, Grandmother dear. Sir Peveril wants me. I've taken his hospital
work; people are really extraordinarily kind to me!" Jim summarized.
"Oh, you've been vetted, there's no question of that," she agreed
thoughtfully. They were at tea in her own drawing-room, which was
crowded with articles handsome and hideous, Victorian lace tidies
holding their own with really fine old furniture, and exquisite bits of
oil or water colour sharing the walls with old steel engravings in
cumbersome frames. Now Ivy leaned back in her chair, and stirred her
tea, not speaking for a few minutes.
"There's just one thing," she said presently. "Before you come here to
stay, put your house in order. Don't leave everything at haome in a
narsty mess that'll have to be straightened aout later, if you know what
I mean? Get that all straight, and have it understood, d'ye see?"
The colour came into Jim's face at so unexpected an attack, yet speech
was a relief, too.


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