Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. "Bring him out, Quilt. His own peculiar genius—a miracle key to the hidden things in men's souls—had given him this immediate and astonishing illumination. I chose you for your strength, your cunning, your intelligence, your great beauty. There was more to be told, and this was as good a time as any. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. Then she sang.
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