’ ‘What offer?’ she asked, suspicion rife in her voice. “You cannot give me ultimatums. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. ” He threw open the door of the sitting-room and switched on the electric light. It wasn’t. He felt her observance and warmed to it.
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