Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. “I do not like to seem inhospitable, Anna,” she said hesitatingly. And now she had sent Jack away. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female.
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