“You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in. They are horrible. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. “We pretend bodies are ugly. Look in the small hide-bound book that he keeps in his boot. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. "He can't get out. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales.
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