She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. I'm no mollycoddle. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously.
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