” “You will give up anything I wish you to give up. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. The kiss was powerfully moving. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. The poor things! Oh, it was quite dreadful. “So Mr. ‘You said it. " "I am not, by Heaven," returned the knight, solemnly. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her.
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