She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. You're luck. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry.
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