“I didn’t ask you to get married. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Hugging them, they crept stealthily around the house, Major Alderley leading, and wasting—so his captain acidly commented—a deal of time checking the windows and doors. ‘Not entirely English then. His heir is dead, yes, and his name and title available to me. His suspicions at first fell upon you. Then Mr. I had done the most compromising things, and behaved in the most ridiculous way. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face.
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