I will never wed you. A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. Fortescue in the drawing-room, and actually shake hands with him in an entirely hopeless manner and hope everything would turn out for the best. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. ‘Wait for me.
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