Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. She was finally dead, going to Hell. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Two-and-twenty! I can’t imagine what your parents can be thinking about to let you get into these scrapes. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative.
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