Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. "Clean and spotless, but beginning to show the wear and tear of constant use. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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