. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. He stopped abruptly. Can you wonder that I expect you to fulfil yours?” “I am not aware,” she answered, “that I have ever failed in doing so. I have always been lonely. But I waited in vain. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. Though he never seen so much of Miss Mary as I did.
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