You will not find it else. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. "I beg your pardon!… A bit rocky this morning…. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. He realized that he was committed to the path across the fields, an uninteresting walk at the best of times. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside.
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