The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel. "You have behaved like a man of honour, Sir Rowland," said Wild, after he had twice told over the money. She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. “Then some of your family history is known to me. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. And in this fact lay his danger. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness.
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