She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. If she could not marry him, she would not marry any one.
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