That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. ‘In love? I? Don’t be ridiculous. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. I think that WAS decision. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. ” “Nor I.
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