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. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice. They laughed and talked and stared about them. Me, you may have. And, lastly, there's Mr. "You've won your wager. Her patience was waning fast. "He is," returned Quilt, significantly.
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