" "No," answered the ruffian, moodily. I might utter a million, and still I doubt if I could make you understand. ‘Because I love you. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve.
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