You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. Then the foremost bowed and passed on. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood.
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