Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. It’s these damned novels. Owing to this circumstance, Mr. Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. That's the job. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. Good night.
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