Lord, I am sixty. ” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. The dress of this person was excessively showy, and consisted of a scarlet riding-habit, lined and faced with blue, and bedizened with broad gold lace, a green silk-knit waistcoat, embroidered with silver, and decorated with a deep fringe, together with a hat tricked out in the same gaudy style. .
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