"'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. "By George!" he exclaimed. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. On the way he confessed. “I don’t know. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. Lucy followed her.
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