"Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. I don't care how lonesome it is. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. We shall be equally matched. He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back.
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