He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. ” “Never,” he exclaimed vehemently. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely.
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