If I did not love you so much I believe I could win you by sheer force of character, for people tell me I am naturally of the dominating type. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart.
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