The chamber rang with her shrieks. ’ ‘It is money you mean, no?’ Melusine asked with scorn. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. Were the parents agreeable? Were they of age? Had the license been procured? But here, in a far country, only the velvet manacles of wedlock were necessary. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. “What is the good of pretending?” she said.
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