"God in Heaven bless you, unhappy boy!" cried. There was more shouting. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. Other things came. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. “Cool. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room.
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