CHAPTER XIV. She comprehends what we're about. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. It would be too mortifying. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. He had forgiven everybody.
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