’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. He—wanted to marry me. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. ’ Melusine sobered, sitting down again. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. “You may talk—if you can talk cheerfully, not unless. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding.
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