She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. I rather think they have kicked him, from the tone of some of the letters. ‘Damnation!’ Confused, he released her, and in an instant she had darted away and was running down the garden. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family.
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