Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days.
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