She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. ’ ‘Then they are soldiers. "Her ladyship—" faltered the attendant. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street.
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