Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Such a beautiful boy he is, but his intelligence is marginal. To begin with, he struck her as being the most variable person she had ever encountered. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing.
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