I daresay you have the whole thing wrong, Gerald. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. It’s—it’s a social difference. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute.
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