She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. Goopes, she was sure was always high-browed and slow and Socratic. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish.
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