I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. “I wish. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. “But how can you?” asked Constance.
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