Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. Very well. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence of any new species.
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