“Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. Mrs Sindlesham occupied a large padded armchair to one side of a corner fireplace, which gave out a heat more than adequate for September to one of the major’s robust constitution. “Why did you lie to that man?” he asked fiercely. 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.
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