“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. “Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. All the world over a wedding procession arouses laughter and derision in the bystanders. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. Afterwards, it may be different. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet.
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