" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. " "Keep in your own room, at all events," rejoined Kneebone. I have only just left Wych Street. “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. Their flitting hands were always touching.
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