Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. “What did it matter?” she cried. Now, let’s get down to business. But she was staring seaward and did not notice the offering. “I wrote it for you. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. Old Lancashire families both. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. Stanley being bored and feeling limited.
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