There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. I shall count it a privilege. I was a novelty. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. But I'll not believe it of you. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart.
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