As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner.
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