It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. ‘I, on the other hand, want to help you to marry this Englishman. Come. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively.
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