"I'm armed; you are not. That is the dreadful truth. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another. I'll call it my wedding gift. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp. In the '80s such a dress would have indicated considerable financial means; under the sun-helmet it was an anachronism; and yet it served only to add a quainter charm to the girl's beauty. I don't care how lonesome it is.
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