If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. ’ ‘That is what you think? Let us try!’ ‘Don’t be idiotic!’ She was backing from him, reaching through one of the slits she had carefully manufactured in her petticoat. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. I secured the dog after he had wounded me.
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