2. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. On approaching the couch, they found Sir Rowland senseless, and extended over the dead body of his unfortunate sister. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. If you will have your peg, take it with plain water. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface.
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