His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. ‘And me, I am a lady. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world.
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