"His shin may need rubbing. He was no match for Brendon. It might be upset. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. ‘He wanted me also to run away with him, and I wish very much that I had done so. "I would sacrifice all my fortune—all my hopes —to liberate him. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. Then they rode off at speed. ‘Because I love you.
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