II. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. I—I hurt myself. " "You had Spurlock once. I cannot work, I cannot teach. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. ‘Odd sort of a nun.
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