“The only regret was that I did not have proper mourning attire. I had outgrown the clothes from my mother’s mourning. The modiste had hastily fashioned one black gown for me, but it was a gown for evening. My pelisse was pale blue. Mrs. Lovatt decided that my navy traveling suit and navy straw bonnet with the flowers removed would be more fitting. They made me look like a governess, but I wore them. Mrs. Lovatt was better equipped. She, at least, would be wearing somber black. Bunny Smythe post...ed over at eight-thirty, as promised. His mourning attire was limited to a black arm band and a black ribbon around his hat. Even in our well-sprung carriage, a journey of over fifty miles was no small undertaking. The road along the sea was well maintained and well traveled, however. Between the natural beauty of the coast and the diversion provided by many towns and villages, we were kept from brooding on the troublesome nature of our quest. After a stop for lunch at Eastbourne, we arrived at Brighton in midafternoon.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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