His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. I was rude and stupid. She could not help thinking of Capes. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. “They ought to have been lopped in the spring. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said.
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