‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. You refuse me your confidence. He offered me at once an engagement. From the second descended Mr. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. To disillusion her, forthwith.
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