‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. Marry me. Eating him while he was at the end of a heroin binge left her sleepy and dazed. ’ *** Gerald Alderley stepped out of a house he had been visiting in Hamilton Place and the door closed behind him.
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