“Miserable bounder,” he murmured. I want to get away—to go to London. The doctor nodded to him curtly. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same.
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