You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Sit down, I command you. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. Years ago, when you were a girl and in the bloom of your beauty, I loved you. He must know she’ll be at a convent. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed.
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