Bête, she told herself fiercely. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns. She’s a snob. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. With her lived a Mrs. Melusine opened her eyes at him. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me.
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