"What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome. ‘Also that it was that you did not wish the French connection. We married, and for a time we were happy. There were the burnt papers still in the grate.
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