There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. Arrived at the extremity of the building, he found that it overlooked the flat-roof of a house which, as far as he could judge in the darkness, lay at a depth of about twenty feet below. ‘You will like to marry me, yes?’ she pursued.
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