“The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. “Not at all. My only love is for my poor lost son. \" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from.
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