“Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. ’ She glared at Hilary. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. ‘Not if I heard him aright. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. .
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