Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. \"I've got some chores to do and I usually cook dinner on weeknights. How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. ’ ‘How shocking. ‘Looks like it. She let out a wail. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father.
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