Alexandra’s voice cut through her ruminations: “Jean Louise, did you come down on the train Like That?” Caught offside, it took a moment for her to ascertain what her aunt meant by Like That. “Oh—yessum,” she said, “but wait a minute, Aunty. I left New York stockinged, gloved, and shod. I put on these right after we passed Atlanta.” Her aunt sniffed. “I do wish this time you’d try to dress better while you’re home. Folks in town get the wrong impression of you. They think you are—ah—slumming.” Jean Louise had a sinking feeling. The Hundred Years’ War had progressed to approximately its
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