My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. " Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day.
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