"No, Rollo; not this afternoon. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “Call me Cathy, John. “I do not think so. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. I asked her to marry me, and she consented.
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