She looked at him curiously. Ramage. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over—we can scarcely, in this case, say—their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations. She looked stealthily at Anna.
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