Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. "Will you be mine!" "It's a very unfair advantage to take—very," replied Mrs. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. It doesn't look bad, does it?" "Mercy, no! That wasn't the thought.
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