But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. There are human limitations, and no doubt you reached yours. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful.
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