What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. “Well,” she said, “good-night, father. ‘Mademoiselle. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken.
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