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. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. Look at the poor victim at your feet.
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