The stipendiary would have done it all very differently. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown. “Yes. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. 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. " The Wastrel laughed.
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