Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. "I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. She is English, and apparently in some distress. Hear me then, now, before I take one step to establish my origin, or secure my rights.
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