You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. He was painfully in earnest, too. Ah! what's that?" he exclaimed, as some one brushed hastily past him. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands.
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