“You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. That is what my mother used to call me. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare.
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