She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Find your man, that’s the rule. “Why can’t he reason with me,” she said, again and again, “instead of doing this?” Part 3 There presently came a phase in which she said: “I WON’T stand it even now. ‘You little fool! I’m a trained soldier with ten years experience at my back. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently.
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