"I was merely about to observe that I am in possession of her secret. No— no, it must never be. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. Courtlaw, is it not,” she remarked, with lifted eyebrows. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Her parents totally look the other way. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. ” “That’s a question of detail,” said Ann Veronica. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Do help me, Lady Ferringhall. You steered and I rowed stroke. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws.
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