‘But you know. I’m sorry Lucy. He did his best not to grin. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Loans will just ruin my life because I need so many of them. ” “Too much character, and too little sentiment,” he answered. Madame Valade was that kind of woman.
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