CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT Part 1 Spring had held back that year until the dawn of May, and then spring and summer came with a rush together. “Dear me!” he said. As if God would not continue to mock him so long as his brain held a human thought! God had given him a pearl without price, and he had misunderstood until this day. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. The militiaman at once thrust the old man between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the kitchen. It’s a sort of guarantee of confidence. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck.
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