“I wouldn’t. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile. I'm speaking of virtuous women—of WIVES, Madam.
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