And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. "The marriage was never consummated," continued the imperturbable stranger. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. And if she is not a nun, nor a refugee, and yet is entirely English, I’m hanged if I know what she is. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910.
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