She had warned him. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. I was rude and stupid. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. I had a perfect shoal of callers. It was easy enough to lie to anyone else. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. He looked distant, irritated.
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