He hated horizons. ‘Well, only look what’s come of it. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop. White told me where to find you. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison.
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