She looked paler than ever; but her countenance, though bewildered, did not exhibit the alarm which might naturally have been anticipated from the strange and perplexing scene presented to her view. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. But in a moment she believed she understood. That’s why he was so annoyed, you know. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you.
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