Was she a fool to wish a person of a disposition altogether not pleasing to marry her? Was it not true that he made a game with her very often? Had he not been extremely interfering from the beginning? And had he not kissed her, just when— Her thoughts skidded to a stop. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. I must go and dress at once. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. It had been her home for hundreds of years. I waited for her at the back.
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