We men are like children. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you.
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