I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. I can keep you. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. I say again, grace à vous.
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