Her wedding gown! She wondered if the spirit of the unknown mother looked down upon her. I am five-and-thirty, and I have knocked about in the world and tasted the quality of life. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. "Good night. We've made a pretty penny by him—sixty guineas this blessed day. ‘She won’t. Petals!. Certainly, there wasn't a thing in the pockets. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised.
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