There was hope for me then. The latch had not fully caught. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. And I've made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees.
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