Can you wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?” “I am not aware,” she answered, “that I have ever failed in doing so. The eldest, Constance, was lost, by the carelessness of a servant, during her infancy, and has never since been heard of: the youngest, Aliva, is the present Lady Trafford. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. Still, one has to be reasonable. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. It isn’t pretty, but we’re made so. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. She proffered her neck towards him. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. The doctor said you wrote. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she.
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