I wanted the magic of love. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. Never mind. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice.
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