Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. I AM an abandoned female. It needs cultivating, I think. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. Like stealing.
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