“We can,” he said, “and we will. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. Wood. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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