He carried a small bag. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon. ’ Dieu du ciel, but she was a fool. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think.
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