It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. " "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches.
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