“There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. It was the bitterest moment of her life. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. Earles watched her anxiously. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. Earles answered, glibly. “Yeah. 1.
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