A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. His face was downcast. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. ’ ‘Gracious heaven, Gerald! If your dear mama could not drag you to the altar, I am hardly likely to succeed. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. ’ She closed her mind on the possibility of finding out, and went on, ‘But me, I have been in a war, and I have won.
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