More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down. And she’s pluck to the backbone. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Take the one that struck him at this moment. Were the parents agreeable? Were they of age? Had the license been procured? But here, in a far country, only the velvet manacles of wedlock were necessary.
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