Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. Luckily I’m not. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him.
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