She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. . Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt.
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