She took his hand in hers. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. Nothing would induce me to marry you, or any man at present. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt.
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