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The Last Chronicle of Barset by Anthony Trollope
page 89 of 1179 (07%)

'I thought so, Major Grantly.'

'And that I intended to ask her to be my wife?'

'Well; since you put the question to me so plainly, I must confess that
as Grace's friend I should not quite have let things go on as they have
gone--though I am not at all disposed to interfere with any girl whom I
believe to be pure and good as I know her to be--but still I should
hardly have been justified in letting things go on as they have gone, if
I had not believed that such was your purpose.'

'I wanted to set myself right with you, Miss Prettyman.'

'You are right with me--quite right'; and she got up and gave him her
hand. 'You are a fine, noble-hearted gentleman, and I hope that our
Grace may live to be your happy wife, and the mother of your darling
child, and the mother of other children. I do not see how a woman could
have a happier lot in life.'

'And will you give Grace my love?'

'I will tell her at any rate that you have been here, and that you have
inquired after her with the greatest kindness. She will understand what
that means without any word of love.'

'Can I do anything for her--or her father; I mean in the way of money?
I don't mind mentioning it to you, Miss Prettyman.'

'I will tell her that you are ready to do it, if anything can be done.
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