F. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. Her lips were dry and cracked. The flush deck was without wells. God had never answered any of her prayers. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. This is my friend, Mr. If I had been quite quiet and white and dignified, wouldn’t it have been different? Would he have dared?.
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