"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. She still could not muster the strength to leave. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. Her pulses began to race. I had no curiosity of that kind. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. They can’t help seeing things in the way they do. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it.
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