I never forgive an injury. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. We are off for a second honeymoon. ” “I met you accidentally,” he reminded her.
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