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She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. ‘Parbleu, is this a moment to be out of town? What is the matter with him that he is out of town when I need him?’ ‘Famous!’ uttered a new voice from the doorway. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. It wasn’t.
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