Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. " "Oh, yes I will. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. " "You paint yourself worse than you are, dear Mrs. . It was then, I am sure, empty.
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