It was a habit of his to talk to himself. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. She remembered Taber's hat. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. Playing became a way of escape. Observing Spurlock's spellbound attitude, he clapped the boy on the shoulder.
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