At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. She was perfectly aware that the boy had gotten some sort of bug in his craw over her despite her sloppy, strange appearance. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent.
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