The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. "I began to fear, from his having quitted the old place, that some misfortune must have befallen him. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. I hate what I am. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. " "Curse on, and welcome," jeered Wild.
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