“Only four spoonsful left,” she declared briskly, “and your turn to buy the next pound, Sydney. Recollect that. ” “Only you won’t let me live. ” He signed his name and reflected. I was mean to him. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. 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.
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