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Chapter 6 Florentine Ponsonby straightened her skirts and patted down her flyaway hair. She knew from experience it looked as good as it was going to get. With only scant moments left before she needed to see her mother in the kitchen downstairs, she collected her purse, her fingers brushing over the handwritten book of verse her sister had given her. Thoughts of her sister were a balm for the nerves that threatened to rip through her stomach if she gave way to them. Butterflies, her mother would say. A sign that you need to stand up and be brave. Only cowards and the ignorant did not feel the twisting twirling flight of butterflies within. Florentine smoothed the thick material of her vest before slipping it over her blouse, glad that there was no outer sign of the turmoil below, and t