I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. It was hard to part with romance, but she had never thirsted so keenly to go on with her University work in her life as she did that day. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Never really thought about Him—people don’t.
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