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A Lady of Quality | Frances Hodgson Burnett | |
'Twas the face of Sir John Oxon the moon shone upon |
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"She must be ashamed of me," the humble creature said to herself. "And if she is ashamed she will be angered and send me away and be friends no more." She did not deceive herself, poor thing, and imagine she had the chance of being regarded with any great lenience if she appeared ill. "Mistress Clorinda begged that you would come quickly," said Rebecca, knocking at the door. So she caught her handkerchief, which was scented, as all her garments were, with dried rose-leaves from the garden, which she had conserved herself, and went down to the chintz parlour trembling. It was a great room with white panels, and flowered coverings to the furniture. There were a number of ladies and gentlemen standing talking and laughing loudly together. The men outnumbered the women, and most of them stood in a circle about Mistress Clorinda, who sat upright in a great flowered chair, smiling with her mocking, stately air, as if she defied them to dare to speak what they felt. Anne came in like a mouse. Nobody saw her. She did not, indeed, know what to do. She dared not remain standing all alone, so she crept to the place where her sister's chair was, and stood a little behind its high back. Her heart beat within her breast till it was like to choke her. |
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A Lady of Quality Frances Hodgson Burnett |
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