Give me your hand. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases. 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. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. Even the children jeer.
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