"I don't want to know your heart."
"You might listen to a man, at any rate."
"I don't want to listen. It can't do any good. I only want you to
leave me alone, and go away."
"I don't know what you take me for," said Mr. Spooner, beginning to
wax angry.
"I haven't taken you for anything at all. This is very disagreeable
and very foolish. A lady has a right to know her own mind, and she
has a right not to be persecuted." She would have referred to Lord
Chiltern's letter had not all the hopes of her heart been so terribly
crushed since that letter had been written. In it he had openly
declared that she was already engaged to be married to Mr. Maule,
thinking that he would thus put an end to Mr. Spooner's little
adventure. But since the writing of Lord Chiltern's letter that
unfortunate reference had been made to Boulogne, and every particle
of her happiness had been destroyed. She was a miserable, blighted
young woman, who had quarrelled irretrievably with her lover, feeling
greatly angry with herself because she had made the quarrel, and yet
conscious that her own self-respect had demanded the quarrel.
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