’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. No matter. . For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. His face darkened. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. " "How do you spell the last name?" He spelt it. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. “She”, you say. "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. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister.
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