You are to remain here until you are well. But there was no sign from her. But I don’t suppose you can understand. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. The world, she discovered, with these matters barred had no particular place for her at all, nothing for her to do, except a functionless existence varied by calls, tennis, selected novels, walks, and dusting in her father’s house.
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