“I don’t think less of you, you know.” She turned another page. “For being too common for your perfect life? For being so common the mind will boggle at the possibility that I might make a decent wife? For being so common that you can hardly deign to breath the same air I breathe?” Damn. That wasn’t what he meant at all. “I don’t think you are common.” She turned pages more quickly now. “It’s difficult to believe that, I must admit, as you have spent the entirety of our acquaintance reminding me of my common appearance.” Flip. “My common background.” Flip. “My common past.” Flip. “My common
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