"Thanks to you," said the doctor. It depresses one, you know. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy.
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