She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. I forget the particulars, but I know it was something very disagreeable. “I’m five years older than you, and no end wiser, being a man. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels.
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