If I were to marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life—a sort of parasitical creature without blood or muscle. He shuddered. “But your hair,” he gasped. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. Pioneers all of them.
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