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Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. She intercepted the glance the spinsters exchanged, and immediately sensed that she had said too much. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. You don’t want to miss the sport. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould.
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