Seizing her hand he covered it with kisses. "Rowland," she said, in a faint voice, "I have not many minutes to live. . ” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. ‘No. The ring's yours, and you're mine. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat.
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