The well of tears in her eyes was dry. This did not affect Spurlock. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. And besides—We’re going to live, Ann Veronica! Oh, the things we’ll do, the life we’ll lead! There’ll be trouble in it at times—you and I aren’t going to run without friction. My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop.
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