She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. "I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. . ' Will that do?" "It will," replied Trenchard. “I will MAKE you love me! Until he has faded—faded into a memory. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. " The little girl's countenance fell. " Her utterance was here choked by sobs.
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