Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. ’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. Brendon. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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