" "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. “With your permission I should like to search the remainder of your rooms. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type. Then she realized that it was her business to let Manning talk and impose his own interpretations upon the situation so far as he was concerned. But one day he came to me. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. You are the woman I love, Anna.
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