“Julian, I don’t want to get married!” She blinked in 119 disbelief as she saw how hurt he was by her reply. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. A lovely, fetching girl. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. The man lingered. ‘Odd sort of a nun. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him.
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