"Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. That’s all about it. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. Ruth?" "Why the devil not? Why do you suppose she married you if she didn't love you? While you read I watched her face.
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