‘Please to sit, monsieur. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. There were groves of cultivated guava, orange, lemon, and pomegranate. She hated the manor. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley.
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