"Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. Drink for him had a queer phase. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. I’m fine.
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