It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. “Well,” he said at last slowly, “I’ll pay it. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. " "Do you mock me?" cried Jack, levelling a pistol at him. She gurgled.
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