‘It is in no way your affair, monsieur, and you will unhand me at once. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. I always wondered why he bought my mother's pearls so readily. I am a single man, and——” “Thank you,” she interrupted. The image did not move. ‘I begin to ask myself why it is that I wish to become of these people. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets.
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