When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. “This has all the clean freshness of spring and youth,” said Capes; “it is love with the down on; it is like the glitter of dew in the sunlight to be lovers such as we are, with no more than one warm kiss between us. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that.
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