‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. I cannot work, I cannot teach. The ring's yours, and you're mine. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist.
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