” Dessert was served. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. I don’t know what has come over me. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. “Please hurry. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness.
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