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general was praising one handsome vase that was intended for the sideboard while another, more magnificent bowl holding the dinner table centerpiece was taking shape under Mrs. Sotheby's fluttering but capable hands. |
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That problem was solved. Wondering if there were anything left to be done, Linda started and almost tripped over an uneven step when her name was called sharply. She turned to see Rose-Anne behind her at the top of the stairs. |
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"I want to talk to you," Rose-Anne said. |
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"Sure," Linda replied with assumed willingness. "Come down to the beach." |
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"No, I don't want my shoes full of sand, and I want to talk to you privately." |
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Linda was about to reply caustically but thought better of it. "All right," she said. "How about the gazebo?" |
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"Aunt Emmeline is too likely to interrupt us there. We can walk up the cliff. No one goes there except me." |
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Linda came back up the stairs slowly, annoyed, thinking that a bathing suit and towel were not very suitable clothing for hiking up a cliff. She could have used that excuse for refusing to go, but was reluctant to say no, though she knew that was foolish. If Rose-Anne was so set on privacy, she doubtless had something unpleasant to say. Why should I give up my swim to listen to a scolding I don't deserve? Linda asked herself resentfully. But she had a guilty feeling that she did deserve it for not warning |
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