'...I stood in speechless, loveless admiration, as Dolly daintily descended, fresh and trim, as if she had been travelling in cotton wool and silver paper in a bandbox, instead of in dusty railway and mouldy chaise.
"Well, Nell," said she, presenting her cool peach cheek to me, "how are you? Much the same as usual, I see - hair arranged with a pitchfork, and dress with a view to ventilation."'
from Cometh Up as a Flower by Rhoda Broughton (Chapter XI)
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