She felt herself shaking again. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. ‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name.
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