She was thirty-seven, older than Mrs. Cleveland’s friend, Prudence Bates, but younger than poor Constance and than Fabian himself. She had always loved him, but it had not occurred to her until that autumn day in the garden when she had seen him looking out of the window that anything could be done about it. She was not the person to cherish a hopeless romantic love for a man, especially if he were free and lived next door, and now that Prudence Bates had come into his life Jessie felt that she must act quickly. It seemed to her entirely appropriate that she should lay her plans while Miss
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