I would that you were my own. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. . It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. We have to hang about in the interval.
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