"Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. I've been thinking about it ever since morning. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. 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. Mr.
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