It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. ‘You can if you like. “Women are mocked,” she said. Do you see why I have hidden the terrible things from you? I chose you because you are my perfect mate. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly.
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