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. I won't give him a chance. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. “I have heard these things from you before, and you have had my answer. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow.
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