The fascination of the idea of throwing himself upon his knees and crying out all that was in his heart! As his eyes began to focus objects, he saw one of her arms extended upon the counterpane, in his direction, the hand clenched tightly. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. "Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount.
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