I do not love any one. The latter began to heave himself up from the sand. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. But let the horses be in readiness. “No, I’m not a virgin.
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