She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. “Mr. Well, I don’t think that’s fair. ” Ennison had things to say, but he looked at her and held his tongue. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. I am Jonathan Wild.
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