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Next, ere one was aware, an arrow would whistle with a "Hisst!" past one's breast-bone and stand quivering, head-covered in the clay. Vicious things they were, too, steel-pointed and shafted with iron for half their length. But all waitings come to an end, even that of him who waits on a fair woman's arraying of herself.
“She couldn't eat her breakfast in bed if she did that!” was my cutting remark. “Or quit at three,” from Annie. “Hisst!” I whisper, “I'm a lady in disguise!” And I quirk my little finger as I drink my coffee and order Eleanor to peer without to see if my limousine waits. We discuss rich folk and society ladies, and no one envies or is bitter.