My father died a year ago, by the way. Running to Gosse, she seized the portrait from his hand and lashed out, taking him off guard, so that he staggered back and fell against the card table. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. He forces an engagement upon her. "As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. "That's a good story, lad. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly.
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