I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. " "As like as life, Sir," observed Austin, peeping over Thornhill's shoulder at the portrait. “What can you do?” she asked. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. "Well, my pretty dears," he added, "—to see your husband, eh? You must make the most of your time. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes.
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