Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed.
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