C. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. ’ She bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her.
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