She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. “You can’t think that I’m fool enough to be put off like this. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. You must think it over. Sir Montacute had three children—two daughters and yourself.
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