I suppose the last person you ever see nowadays is the Revd.

Sam Gardner?
You know they howked him out of Woodcote?
He got "preferment" as he calls it, and a cure of souls at Margate.

Rather rough on the dear old mater--bless her, _always_--She so liked the Hindhead country.

But if you run up against Praddy you might let him know and he might get into touch with Vavasour Williams's people--twig ?--F.G.
Vivie rose to her feet half-way through this letter and finished it standing by the window.
She was tall--say, five feet eight; about twenty-five years of age; with a well-developed, athletic figure, set off by a smart, tailor-made gown of grey cloth.

Yet although she might be called a handsome woman she would easily have passed for a good-looking young man of twenty, had she been wearing male costume.
Her brown-gold hair was disposed of with the least ostentation possible and with no fluffiness.