Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. ‘Your niece, ma’am. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. ” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. Winny, my love, come with me.
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