“But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. " "I fancied I heard voices," rejoined Sir Rowland. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account.
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