“But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. He shuddered. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. ‘She won’t like it,’ prophesied the captain gloomily.
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