"His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. ‘Dieu du ciel, is this a way to have me say yes? If it is that you do not wish to, why do you ask me?’ ‘Ah. It slid off flimsily. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. Humph. However good you were to me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this intolerable.
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