“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. ” He replied. Your life is like a funeral March. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that. I spent many happy days there. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. " "Never let the unknown edge in upon your courage.
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