The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. . You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. " "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. The patient fell into a natural and refreshing sleep. . "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. He introduced her as his \"friend\" Lucy. Here's Winny always urging you to go and visit Mrs.
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