She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. "It is an ordinary wedding," he added; "some shopkeeper's daughter.
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