“But I am your husband,” he said. They laughed and talked and stared about them. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. E. Taber did not leave all his money in the office. Presently McClintock came in. There's the paragraph. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically.
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