The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. "Put your arms about me. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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