What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. Morals only begin when that is settled. Don’t ask me how.
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