The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. " "Ah. ‘Poor Gerald has been very busy about your affairs this last week. ‘Certainly, if I was a nun, I know of many good names. 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. "I must tell you," she was saying. "That depends upon you. Leastways, not on your own. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question.
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