‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. It is the bottom of the cup, where all the dregs appear to settle. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly.
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