This is the twenty-eight entry out of the thirty I'm attempting. It is part of a series of thirty entries so I hope you'll read each daily post to find out what happens in the end.
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Reason: the frog-like ribbits of the company.
Real reason: Mr Langston’s proposal.
She wandered outside. A groom was shoving a suitcase into a carriage. Miss Charleston was there. “Miss Sheffield, can I help you?”
“No, I was just on my way home.”
Alisa was leaving when she came closer. She took her hand like a lifelong friend and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you Alisa.”
She nodded, bewildered.
“I’ll only interfere with your life once more…by informing you of Mr Hurst’s sudden ill health.”