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Updated: May 18, 2025
She flashed a quick glance round in search of the Thistletons, and saw them leaning dangerously far over the rail, trying to attract the attention of Sybil Sidmouth, who was smiling so contentedly as she handed her companion his tea; then she turned to run to the saloon to hide herself, and ran, instead, right into Jane Coop's arms.
Maria Hobson knocked and opened Jane Coop's door, who rose and came quickly towards her; and as her grace's maid involuntarily glanced round the room, old Nannie peered over her shoulder with the hope of seeing her young mistress in the corridor. "Isn't she here?" "My young lady? No; she's dancing." She paused, and put out her hand. "Isn't she dancing? Isn't she?"
Jane Coop's literary plane swung between a three-penny weekly entitled "Real Stories from High Life" and Ouida's novels, which latter she had bought second-hand in the Charing Cross Road and kept sandwiched between her Bible and "Grandmother's Herb Recipes." "But I don't want to go. I hate crowds, and I can't take Wellington.
"O," replied Prudy, snatching a kiss from her pouting lips, "if you've got the croup you certainly can't go." Dotty shook her curls. "Coop's went off now. Dotty'll go, all o' you." "O, no, little sister; you'll stay at home and look at your pictures. That's the way I did when I was little." "You mustn't contraspute," cried Dotty, shaking her elbows. "I is goin' to Sabber school."
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