“The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. Every one of those four stories would be accepted. Heaven will not permit the continuance of such wickedness as you practise. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. ‘Jacques, you have been very much my friend. “Now listen. I'm ready to bear it all. Yes, very well.
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