Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. Women, she had been taught, who exposed the flesh of their bodies under the eyes of man were in a special catagory of the damned. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. Gold-handled, too. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. This year—I’ve got it badly. "Under the table. But she did not in the least want to do that.
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