“Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. “Okay, I guess. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. ” The shock of their intellectual attitude was over, usage robbed it of the first quaint effect of deliberate unreason. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. Earles watched her anxiously.
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