But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. Or felt it. “Surely Lady Ennison would object, even if it were possible. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her.
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