She twanged the catgut under her fingers. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs. Mr. I do not think that you will dare to marry anybody else.
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