She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. He was looking pale and ill. Yon must be mine to-night. It was a mad half-hour. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. The proposal is so far from being exorbitant, that it should be trebled if I had not a fellow-feeling in the cause.
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