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Updated: June 18, 2025
We saw Fenelon's head here, preserved in a church. But to return from archbishops to cambrics. Our hostess at Cambray was a dealer in cambrics, and in her bale of baptistes she seemed literally to have her being. She was, in spite of cambric and Valenciennes lace of which she had a dirty superfluity on her cap lined with pink the very ugliest of the female species I had ever beheld.
He was a man who respected cash wherever he found it, and already the two Baptistes had a fine show ashore. "Ma'ame Larocque," said Conolly, politely, putting in his head, "of course you know I was only joking yesterday. You can get anything you want at the store." What a breakfast they did have, to be sure! the Baptistes eating while they worked.
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