She took his hand in hers. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. The villagers were thronging to church. After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room. “Splendid it must be to be a composer. I AM an abandoned female. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. You are too credulous. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued.
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