"He would return my letters unopened or destroy them. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. It comes to this—am I to be trusted to take care of myself, or am I not?” “To judge from this proposal of yours, I should say not. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light.
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