" "I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly. 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. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God.
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