Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. " "A terrible dream, indeed," said Jonathan thoughtfully.
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