Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. Her first intimations of marriage as a fact of extreme significance in a woman’s life had come with the marriage of Alice and the elopement of her second sister, Gwen. “I am sick of it. I just like you, Mary, and we’ve had a lot of fun. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now.
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