I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. 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. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. ‘But with more courage in her little finger than in many another female’s entire body. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly.
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