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The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. You simply can't get good oil down there, so I must husband the few drams I carry. ‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. He carried a small bag. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. ’ ‘But there is still Remenham House. ” “That is provokingly indefinite,” he answered, a little ruefully. . ” “Sorry. That was what she was trying to make him understand. “Come this way,” he said. “We are clerks in the same bank. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. She was silent.
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