Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. ’ Relief flooded Melusine. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. So Ruth took another step toward her destination, which we in our vanity call destiny. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. But we can’t help noticing.
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