“It is not possible,” he exclaimed. Felix. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her.
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