just furtive meetings. Even now I do not understand. But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off. ’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. 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. And if I don’t, I go mad.
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