She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known.
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