“The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. A few more minutes, and she was safe. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the doorway. I could not love you else. The inn was a military haunt. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven.
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