"As long as I live, I'll never forget that dress of hers," Prudence declared. Then she and her husband went off to a Yorkshire practice, and had four more babies, none of whom photographed well, and so she passed beyond the sphere of Ann Veronica’s sympathies altogether. ’ Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from the room. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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