“I was sick of the make-believe. Capes was something superadded. "But you mustn't indulge these gloomy thoughts. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. A lesson learned.
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