When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. ’ ‘How can it be in dispute?’ frowned Mrs Sindlesham.
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