. " "Hush!" replied Mrs. Shoplatch. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. 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. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal.
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