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It was dry, as if she had powdered it. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. . Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success. How clever she was, to fool everybody so easily! Not yet had any one suspected the truth: that she was, in a certain worldly sense, only four weeks old, that her every act had been written down on paper beforehand, and that her success lay in rigidly observing the rules which she herself had drafted to govern her conduct. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. Taber?" "Regained consciousness this morning.
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