I told him the truth. “It’s precious unromantic. Like carpenter, like chips. “Have to go now. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. An unwelcome idea came to him. As he fell, he caught at the projecting masonry. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t.
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