But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. She looked around her. ’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to have a mystery. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways.
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