And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. The manager twisted his moustache. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. “I can tell you are thinking about it. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. One day she desisted from her search and went unexpectedly to the Tredgold College. ’ ‘Eh bien, it is your fault entirely in this case. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind.
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