There was a stain of wine upon her dress. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her.
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