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I
met
the
questioning
glance
of
her
eyes
--
beautiful
,
lustrous
eyes
as
clear
and
pure
as
light
itself
.
"
I
shall
never
change
,
Sibyl
,
"
I
answered
--
"
I
love
you
--
I
shall
always
love
you
.
But
I
wish
you
would
not
analyse
yourself
so
pitilessly
--
you
have
such
strange
ideas
--
"
"
You
think
them
strange
?
"
she
said
--
"
You
should
not
--
in
these
'
new
women
'
days
!
I
believe
that
,
thanks
to
newspapers
,
magazines
and
'
decadent
'
novels
,
I
am
in
all
respects
eminently
fitted
to
be
a
wife
!
"
and
she
laughed
bitterly
--
"
There
is
nothing
in
the
rôle
of
marriage
that
I
do
not
know
,
though
I
am
not
yet
twenty
.
I
have
been
prepared
for
a
long
time
to
be
sold
to
the
highest
bidder
,
and
what
few
silly
notions
I
had
about
love
--
the
love
of
the
poets
and
idealists
--
when
I
was
a
dreamy
child
at
Willowsmere
,
are
all
dispersed
and
ended
.
Ideal
love
is
dead
--
and
worse
than
dead
,
being
out
of
fashion
.
Carefully
instructed
as
I
have
been
in
the
worthlessness
of
everything
but
money
,
you
can
scarcely
be
surprised
at
my
speaking
of
myself
as
an
object
of
sale
.
Marriage
for
me
is
a
sale
,
as
far
as
my
father
is
concerned
--
for
you
know
well
enough
that
however
much
you
loved
me
or
I
loved
you
,
he
would
never
allow
me
to
marry
you
if
you
were
not
rich
,
and
richer
than
most
men
.
I
want
you
to
feel
that
I
fully
recognize
the
nature
of
the
bargain
struck
;
and
I
ask
you
not
to
expect
a
girl
's
fresh
,
confiding
love
from
a
woman
as
warped
in
heart
and
mind
as
I
am
!
"
"
Sibyl
,
"
--
I
said
earnestly
--
"
You
wrong
yourself
;
I
am
sure
you
wrong
yourself
!
You
are
one
of
those
who
can
be
in
the
world
yet
not
of
it
;
your
mind
is
too
open
and
pure
to
be
sullied
,
even
by
contact
with
evil
things
.
I
will
believe
nothing
you
say
against
your
own
sweet
and
noble
character
--
and
,
Sibyl
,
let
me
again
ask
you
not
to
distress
me
by
this
constant
harping
on
the
subject
of
my
wealth
,
or
I
shall
be
inclined
to
look
upon
it
as
a
curse
--
I
should
love
you
as
much
if
I
were
poor
--
--
"
"
Oh
,
you
might
love
me
"
--
she
interrupted
me
,
with
a
strange
smile
--
"
but
you
would
not
dare
to
say
so
!
"
I
was
silent
.
Suddenly
she
laughed
,
and
linked
her
arms
caressingly
round
my
neck
.
"
There
,
Geoffrey
!
"
she
said
--
"
I
have
finished
my
discourse
--
my
bit
of
Ibsenism
,
or
whatever
other
ism
affects
me
--
and
we
need
not
be
miserable
about
it
.
I
have
said
what
was
in
my
mind
;
I
have
told
you
the
truth
,
that
in
heart
I
am
neither
young
nor
innocent
.
But
I
am
no
worse
than
all
my
'
set
'
so
perhaps
you
had
better
make
the
best
of
me
.
I
please
your
fancy
,
do
I
not
?
"
"
My
love
for
you
can
not
be
so
lightly
expressed
,
Sibyl
!
"
I
answered
in
rather
a
pained
tone
.
"
Never
mind
--
it
is
my
humour
so
to
express
it
"
--
she
went
on
--
"
I
please
your
fancy
,
and
you
wish
to
marry
me
.