I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking.
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