“No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. And don't worry about the six thousand, Hoddy. Burn your palette and your easel. As they approached London Bridge, the thief-taker whispered Van Galgebrok, who acted as steersman, to make for a particular arch—near the Surrey shore. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening. Oh, what have you been about now?’ ‘There is no need to be concerned. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made.
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