Can’t face a scandal. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. But I don't understand her; she's over my head. "Mutual concessions," she added.
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