That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. He continued thoughtfully. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings.
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