She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. Better to remain silent. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. I will marry you when Sir John gets his divorce, and I will do all I can to keep you out of harm.
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