A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously.
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