‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray.
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