‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Pray, walk in. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool.
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