She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. "We must marry at once! The doctor may put me on the boat and force you to remain behind, otherwise. Stanley determined to improve the occasion. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound.
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