The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary. Sir Rowland then fell. "I likes to hear vot you says. It 163 invariably leads to trouble. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment.
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