Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. I do not wish to seek them out, en effet. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers.
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