As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. Which was not to say that ladies were not interested in him. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it.
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