“This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. " CHAPTER XI. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs.
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