One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. "If I hadn't just left him, I could have sworn it was Mrs. Jack Kimble. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room.
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