‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first.
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