The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. ‘Oh, ah. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws.
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