The best thing you can do is to marry master, and be restored to your
friends."
"Sarah Grant--if that be your name," said Mollie, with awful
calmness--"go away! if you only come here to insult me like that,
don't come here at all."
Sarah courtesied respectfully, and immediately left. But her words had
made their mark. In spite of Mollie's appealing dignity, any avenue of
escape--even that--was beginning to took inviting.
"Suppose I went through the form of a ceremony with this man?" mused
Mollie. "It wouldn't mean anything, you know, because I did it upon
compulsion; and, immediately I got out, I should go straight and marry
Sir Roger. But I won't do it--of course, I won't! I'll be imprisoned
forever before I yield!"
But you know it has got to be a proverb, "When a woman hesitates, she is
lost." Mollie had begun to hesitate, and Mollie was lost.
All that long night she never slept a wink. She lay awake, tossing and
tumbling on the bed, or pacing up and down the floor, in a sort of
delirious fever. And--
"If I thought for certain sure he would let me go after the sham
ceremony was performed, I would marry him," was the conclusion she had
arrived at by morning.
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