She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. "O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess.
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