She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. It moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. “What the devil are you doing star-gazing here?” Ennison looked at him in surprise. He believed me when I asked him to marry me. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. Also he had said—laughing in that way with his eyes which made a flutter in her chest— that Prudence will find an Englishman to marry her.
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