Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. There was hope for me then. Her gown was minimalist compared to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on 134 brambles and twigs. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way.
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