" "On that night, you first met me, love," said Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to take his hand, which he coldly withdrew. A vast indifference settled down upon him. "He is all alone. " Animated by this trifling success, he proceeded with fresh ardour, and the rapidity of his progress was proclaimed by the heap of bricks, stones, and mortar which before long covered the floor. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste.
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