‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. The ring's yours, and you're mine. It must be somewhere hereabouts. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. Moreover, she claims that this whole enterprise of hers is purely for the purpose of marrying an Englishman. It is that you cannot refuse her sanctuary. Now, for the cage, my pretty canary-bird.
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