“What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. ‘I believe that.
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