” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. Few approached the émigrés directly, preferring to stare covertly from behind their fans, while pretending to admire the simple elegance of Lady Bicknacre’s neo-classical refurbishments. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed.
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