But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. We men are like children.
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