"Take this key to Baptist Kettleby. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. He had become an extremely handsome man, his hair having darkened and his shoulders having realized their full size. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. ’ ‘Don’t you believe it. Nor is Theresa, or even Thérèse.
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