. But for him——” Something in her sister’s tone startled Anna. At once. “But I am at singing-pitch. To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being.
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