I was out of sorts the first time I saw her, piqued for a reason I have long since forgotten. It left me in an odd mood. There she was, a beautiful girl, ushering her younger sisters to evening mass, her proud father and fretting mother walking behind them like talking illustrations of the late Jane Austen’s works, and I found myself following her
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... Not that she's encouraging you, Drusey! No siree, bob!
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