As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. "Promise me that. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. The opiate has done its duty. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature. “I was sick of the make-believe.
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