"Poor Mrs. Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. "You've won your wager. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. For nothing will ever convince me that it is not the man’s share in life to shield, to protect, to lead and toil and watch and battle with the world at large. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. "These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket, and pushing it towards the knight. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate.
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