That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. He was—a millionaire. This was rather too much to expect; for we all know, if Mr. You're luck. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. So I fear there's little chance of any one getting it. Manning, I do not really want to marry. Still, one never could tell. That was an admission all right. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. ‘Allow me. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. Now, she was the very reverse of all this.
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