’ ‘You see? Not to be trusted,’ Hilary uttered disgustedly. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand.
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