"I don't like it all, Doctor," she replied, in a dissatisfied tone.
"Could heart desire more of elegance and comfort than you possess?"
I glanced around the richly decorated apartment in which we were
seated.
"Gilded misery, Doctor!" She emphasized her words.
I looked at her without speaking. She understood my expression of
surprise.
"I need not tell you, Doctor, that a fine house and fine furniture
are not everything in this world."
I thought her waking up to a better state of mind, through the
irrepressible yearnings of a soul that could find no sustenance amid
the husks of this outer life.
"They go but a little way towards making up the aggregate of human
happiness," said I.
"All well enough in their place. But, to my thinking, sadly out of
place here. We must have society, Doctor."
"True." My voice was a little rough. I had mistaken her.
"But there is no society here!" And she tossed her head a little
contemptuously.
"Not much fashionable society I will grant you, Delia."
She pursed up her lips and looked disagreeable.
"I shall die of ennui before six months.
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