That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. Capes most trying. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back; but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly. I was grateful. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head.
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