“It was a phase,” she said. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. "You hesitate—you are deceiving me. “To-night we are as we have always been. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. ’ ‘A mistake, I agree. It was horrible.
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