If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. What’s that?” They both stood listening.
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