What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure. After Gwen!” “I sent a telegram.
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