“We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. If I told you the facts, I expect, since you are in love with me, you’d explain the whole business as being very fine and honorable for me—the Higher Morality, or something of that sort. " "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife.
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