‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. . I guess they were bad all the time. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk.
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