The Bed Room 400 XIX. Easy enough. She had heard the trader utter it many times. Gracious, there’s the gong. Peste, but everything had become difficult. 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. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his.
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