” “Where is your husband?” Anna asked. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Its parents have perished. He was tender with her as he had not been in years.
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