hing my face.
I nod.
It shall be ours, he says, if we marry
I say nothing.
Let me be , o Briar, meaning to get
you in tune, perer. I saen minutes ood t to seduce you o insult you—to make you only a different kind of captive. I dont . I wiso free you.
You are very gallant, I say. Suppose I dont care to be freed?
.
turn my face—afraid t ting of blood, across my cray me to eady. I say, You forget, my longings count for not my uncles books long to leap from them—
Yes, yes, ience. You o me already. I t often. But, y-eigead I am too poor in pocket, but nor too easy in it t I s be scrambling to line it for a little time to come. Do you t eac. Believe me: I ime t may be misspent, clinging to fictions and supposing truths.
ed o s back o age , and creased from tie. rand of grey. bulges queerly, as mens ts do: as if inviting t will crus.
I say, to come o confess yourself a villain, to suppose me o receive you.
And yet you ill. You called for your maid.
You intrigue me. You he evenness of my days here.
You seek a distraction from t give t, in a moment! gone!—when you marry me.
I s be serious.
I am, however.
You kno you to take me.
ly. e s, of course, to devious methods.
You oo?
t look like t. Dont suppose I am joking. You dont knorange. Not tion of a o a servitude, to la, t terms , t is not y. A liberty of a kind not often granted to the members of your sex.
Yet to be ac laugh—by a marriage?
to be acain unusual conditions. Again last t squeamis about t, as anot be? I suppose your maid is really sleeping, and not listening at the door?
I t say notch.
God en.
to bring a girl to Briar, from London, and install o use of t over-scrupulous, not too clever in sune—Say, t believe sion to ask for more. are a small set, as crooks go; ter all: for o wever s see a s. She will
suppose me an innocent,