"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. His hug became an embrace. You have darkened your eyebrows, you have even changed your style of dress. He knew not what to say, or what to do; and his confusion was increased by the threatening gestures and furious looks of the ruffians in his immediate vicinity. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction.
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