Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. Spurlock mused over the previous night. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. But go thither at once, I beseech you, before he has time to remove them. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. 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.
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