She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. \"Okay, all right, no better time than the present. ” And to that, through vast rhetorical meanderings, she clung. He stood transfixed. “I love you, I always will.
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