The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. " "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. The affair was thick with sinister suggestions. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee.
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