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“I like you very much, dear,” she said smilingly after she had allowed him to kiss her in strict moderation, “but you must realise quite clearly what your marriage to me would mean.” She squeezed his hand gently with her soft white fingers. “People will be very unkind to you.” “I don’t care a bit about that,” laughed the lovesick Major, “as long as I have you.” He snapped his fingers together delightedly. “Gad, but won’t the men be envious of me?” and he made to take her in his arms again. But she smilingly withheld herself from him. “One moment,” she said. She spoke decisively. “If you marry me you can’t have my father, as a horse-dealer, living so near to us. No, it would never do”—she drew herself up proudly—“for as your wife I would take my proper position in Society.” “Damnation,”