He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. Prudence reminded him that he was a county magistrate, and parliamentary candidate for a somewhat difficult borough, where his principal supporters were dissenters of strict principles who took a zealous interest in his moral character. He sat down. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. ‘What do you want with me? Why did you catch me?’ ‘You intrigue me,’ he told her frankly.
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