I do not blame you for the act. I’ve got too much work. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. . Well, what about it?" "I accept. “But you’re wrong. I love you—unendurably. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend.
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