‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. I have slept with it under my pillow. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money. I have suffered him to be brought up decently—honestly; because I would make his fall the greater, and deepen the wound I meant to inflict upon his mother. No one will ever love you as I love you now.
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