She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. F. The whole story of your relationship is a fabrication. CHAPTER III. We married, and for a time we were happy.
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