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"What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. ” “Too much character, and too little sentiment,” he answered. " Sir Rowland bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. His eyes were set too close together. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life.
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