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That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. It was the beginning and the end of the transaction. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would. ” “Yes, it is.
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