She was like an angel with one wing. " "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. Anything else that was said she now regarded only as an aspect of or diversion from that.
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