Now, you yourself--you will
not marry?"
"I am to be married next year if all is well, to Florian Varillo,"
said Angela, "Surely you know that?"
"I have heard it, but I will not believe it," said the Marquis
airily, "No, no, you will never marry this Florian! Do not tell me
of it! You yourself will regret it. It is impossible! You could not
submit to matrimonial bondage. If you were plain and awkward I
should say to you, marry, and marry quickly, it is the only thing
for you!--but being what you are, charming and gifted, why should
you be married? For protection? Every man who has once had the
honour of meeting you will constitute himself your defender by
natural instinct. For respectability? Ah, but marriage is no longer
respectable,--the whole estate of matrimony is as full of bribery
and corruption as the French War Office."
He threw himself back in his chair and laughed, running one hand
through his hair with a provoking manner of indifferent ease and
incorrigible lightheartedness.
"I cannot argue with you on the matter," said Angela, rather
vexedly, "Your ideas of life never will be mine,--women look at
these things differently . . ."
"Poor dear women! Yes!--they do," said the Marquis, "And that is
such a pity,--they spoil all the pleasure of their lives.
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