‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. There is no further hope. She felt anger at Sebastian, anger at the thrill that she felt in her loins upon seeing him, anger at herself for never having the courage to end her own life. Just as the clergyman approached the altar, she perceived a boy steal quickly into the church, and ensconce himself behind the woollen-draper, who, in order to carry on his amatory pursuits with greater convenience, and at the same time display his figure (of which he was not a little vain) to the utmost advantage, preferred a standing to a sitting posture. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept.
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