In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Thank him, not me, man. “Call it warning, if you like. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written.
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