“I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Can’t face a scandal. But she did not believe he would do that. As they 56 approached the manor, she was permitted to peep her head outside the chariot's front window. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress.
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