She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. .
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