I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. She attended to that, and then dismissed it as unimportant. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. “She must go her own way.
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