He liked it, which of course pleases me no end...
A nightmare, Patricia thought. The trip from New York to London had been a nightmare of lightning streaks threatening the plane and vast buffetings and bellowings of thunder and airsickness. But the trip had been heaven compared to the real nightmare she was enduring now. The trip had seemed worth the trouble, because she could still envision the great house she would inherit. And she could imagine the great halls with their paintings of her ancestors, the dukes and duchesses, the earls. . .
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