“But you must forgive me, John. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. ” He shook his head slowly, smiling mysteriously. ” He pushed her a dozen yards along the greasy pavement with flat, well-trained hands that there seemed to be no opposing. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations.
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