She stopped eating. Earles would permit. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. . If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. No girl with a face like that…. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. . Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman.
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