‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. " "Do you call ten guineas easy terms?" cried Wood, with a look of dismay. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. “No, I am alone,” she answered. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance.
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