" Jack again seized the bar, and, dashing it furiously against the door, speedily burst it open. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. Homosexuals weren’t looked too kindly upon in their exclusive suburban neighborhood, not even dashing handsome ones. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would.
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