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Almost had Martha won out. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. “I must read him when I come out. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. ” “And yet,” he murmured, “one of the greatest of our writers has declared that the true spirit of Bohemianism is denied to your sex. He was suddenly calm. Is this a reason?’ ‘Not good enough? Now I had every hope that it would appeal to you. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me.
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