He wanted her named Mary. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. " "It is too late," returned Jack, sullenly; "I can't be honest if I would.
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