” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. And then! a garment that was conceivably a secondary skirt. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. That is quite as far as I mean to tempt Providence to-night. You have the ideas. Wood. ’ ‘In any event,’ Gerald told her, with a grin, ‘I can’t marry this one.
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