But he would make it a point not to speak again to the girl. I have always hated it. I will arise myself. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. “It couldn’t be. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive.
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