One gets a lot more fun married. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. " "Not for worlds!" exclaimed both ladies together. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed.
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