You must—you shall be mine. They struck her as cold and indifferent. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. This discovery made, I hastened back to London to offer you my hand, but found you had married in the mean time a smock-faced, smooth-tongued carpenter named Sheppard. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window.
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