“I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. She would not forgive me. I have never wept since that day. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. I am a man—of a sort of experience. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands.
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