’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Lucilla enthusiastically. “Well,” she achieved at last. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. You’ll never even see me again, for that 268 matter. Stanley professed a great solicitude to warm his hands.
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