“You poor little girl!” he cried. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. ‘Yes, I know. ‘Would that your mistress were as trusting. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. The light disappeared. C.
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