What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. "I have nothing to forgive. Life is morality—life is adventure. " And, as if to make the moral more obvious, a dirty pack of cards was scattered, underneath, upon the sawdust. “In Paris your sister appeared to me to be a charming student of frivolity. Anywhere! Moonlight and music—pleasing, you know, but quite unnecessary. Too late.
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