"O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. Here one might live the life of golden days. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver.
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