"Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. Supper was over. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. I do not think that you will dare to marry anybody else. It was easy to discover that he was a knave, but equally easy to perceive that he was a pleasant fellow; a combination of qualities by no means of rare occurrence.
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