If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. Master, your humble servant. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. I swear to you, solemnly swear to you, I will save your son's life, nay more, will befriend him, will place him out of the reach of his enemies, if you consent to become my wife. And, when I have seen him pining away before my eyes, getting thinner and thinner every day, I have sometimes thought my prayers were heard.
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