Miss scattergood seemed to have turned the corner. It really was quite extraordinary. She had got herself out of bed, washed and dressed, and come downstairs to join the other ladies, who were sunning themselves in the south-facing conservatory.
None of the other ladies had seen her before. When she came from the hospital three weeks earlier (where surgeons had tried, and failed, to save one of her lungs), she’d come through the front door and gone straight upstairs to bed, where she had been lying, breathless and anxious, ever since. The ladies had heard rumours about her, but they…
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