"Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Goopes down on him with the lesson Titian teaches so beautifully in his “Sacred and Profane Love,” and became quite eloquent upon the impossibility of any deception in the former. That would be myself, or if she lived, Mary’s daughter. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. Stanley’s pace slackened. She refused to eat. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. ” “Let us say that Café Maston, in the Boulevard des Italiennes, at half-past seven then,” he decided.
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