Lady Glencora was no miracle. Though born in the purple, she was made of ordinary flesh and blood, and as she entered Lady Monk's little room, hardly knew how to recover herself sufficiently for the purposes of ordinary conversation. "Dear Lady Glencora, do come in for a moment to my den. We were so sorry not to have you at Monkshade. We heard such terrible things about your health." Lady Glencora said that it was only a cold,--a bad cold. "Oh, yes; we heard,--something about moonlight and ruins. So like you, you know. I love that sort of thing, above all people; but it doesn't do; does it? Circumstances are so exacting. 
Lady Glencora was no miracle. She was made of ordinary flesh and blood, and as she entered Lady Monk's little room, hardly knew how to recover herself enough to make ordinary conversation.
"Dear Lady Glencora, we were so sorry not to have you at Monkshade. We heard such terrible things about your health." Lady Glencora said that it was only a cold. "Oh, yes; we heard something about moonlight and ruins. So like you. 