"
"I'll tell you everything I can, dearest, of course."
"Well, now, your freedom, you know. Your freedom of mind. Now, you gave
him your freedom, didn't you! And your mind too? Didn't you, now?"
She had to consider that, and he watched her with anxiety. But she looked
him fairly in the face with her answer, so that he read the truth in her
eyes. "No," she told him. "No. He never had that, luckily for me. I always
knew what I had to do before he did. I could always see where he was right
and I was wrong--or the other way about. I don't think I could ever give
up my judgment. At least--" She had to think again; and again she answered
him, but with heightened colour. "If I did--it would be a different sort
of person altogether. Quite a different person."
His face fell. This didn't sound like marriage-bells. "Oh, my dear!" he
said ruefully. "You don't mean to tell me--"
She jumped up and hugged him. "You darling old thing, of course not." But
she kept her face buried in his whiskers. "If I ever did that--give up my
mind, I mean--I believe I should be happier."
Mr. Percival had no doubt about that. He had old-fashioned opinions.
IV
Mrs. John Chevenix, a young and lively woman with ash-coloured hair,
audacious nose, and a clear complexion, was devoted to her husband's
family, and especially tender to our young friend and Sanchia's, with whom
she had a strong alliance.
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