“I will put the question,” Drummond said gravely. I came to beg you instead to do me the honour of becoming my wife. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. A cold shiver came over her. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. I'll go alone. Sheppard.
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