"You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate. I hope you have learned your lesson now and come to see—come to realize—how things are. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. You do not make me afraid like this. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. ” “Wait,” she said. " "That's the way it goes. One would think I had agreed to her going.
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