Well, he had his own standards of behavior, though no one gave him credit for them. It was nothing out of the way for the younger gentry of the neighborhood to tumble their kitchen maids. They didn’t kidnap them when they were under age, that was all. Well, she was of age, age enough to know her own mind and sense enough to read his before he knew it himself. What was the matter with him? No sense of humor to leaven life? Must every act be dead serious, a weight upon his head and hands? Loving was a recreation; all the poets sang of its lightness, its levity. Only the dull clod raised barriers
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