They had no real meaning for her
probably, and she could not therefore bring them into relation with
concrete facts. In her innocence, in her virginal simplicity, she
would keep the book of life close--sealed until he opened it roughly
for her at its ugliest page.
He, or somebody else!
Suddenly he threw away the faded wood-blossoms, sprang up from the
tree, and paced to and fro. A wave of revolt came sweeping through and
through him. Was he not making mountains out of mole-hills?
If he could trample down all this sentimental fiddle-de-dee, what was
the plain English of the case so far as she was concerned? Unbidden,
innumerable circumstances stored from local knowledge offered
themselves as guides for argument. Take any girl of that class--well,
what are her chances? Why, you are lucky if you keep 'em straight
until the time comes to send 'em out into domestic service; their
parents scarcely expect it, barely seem to desire it. But after that
time, when they get among strangers and there's nobody with an eye on
them, they fall as victims--if you choose to call it so--to the first
marauder--to the young master, the nephew home for his Christmas
holidays, or the man who comes to tune the piano.
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