‘Well! I hadn’t no notion as he’d got hisself married again. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him.
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