Nothing would induce me to marry you, or any man at present. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. The command was sullenly obeyed, for the fellow did not appear to relish the rating. Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. We live under man-made institutions, and that is what they amount to. CHAPTER XII. To-night we leave for Marseilles. Maybe half a year, counting this summer.
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