“Are you unwell?” she tried. “Un—” This for some reason seemed to astonish him. He blinked. “No.” He frowned. “But . . . is something amiss?” “No.” “But you look so—” “Hush,” he said. She was startled to be shushed by him, and not a little affronted. Confused, she obediently pressed her lips closed and folded her hands in a parody of schoolgirl obedience and waited. Glowering. But it was a few seconds more before he finally spoke. He seemed to be listening to a rush of thoughts in his head. “We could marry,” were the words he finally produced. Oh. The breath went out of her in a gust. “Each
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