I have pleaded with her—no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain. But with the skill of a fencer he met the blow and broke it, seizing the wrist. Seeing Capes from day to day made a bright eventfulness that hampered her in the course she had resolved to follow. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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