I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. ’ Madame Valade reseated herself, and Gerald set himself to flatter her into relaxation again. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads. There he stands.
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