‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. He was amused. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. ‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. If our young person hadn’t had the nurse part cut out, eh? She might have known more and done less. ” Ramage looked at her, and then fell into deep reflection as the waiter came to paragraph their talk again.
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