“You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. ’ A peal of laughter came from the girl. She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before. I’m not Gerald, remember. I have never told you so, or Sydney, but I can sing—rather well. Mr. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled.
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