Maybe it’s his loss. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. ‘Come inside at once, child. And the age gets higher. Find your man, that’s the rule.
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