“Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. “I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. If you had any idea what depths people have sunken to as you reside safely in this high fortress, you would search your soul to find the mote of charity left there. ’ ‘But I have told you not,’ she protested. "Enough!" rejoined Wild; "he shall not return. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground.
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