Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. Something changed for her. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me.
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