I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. I have had no one but for you. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. He has sworn that he'll take away my life!" "Bah!" interrupted Jonathan.
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