“I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. Quite right. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair. " "So I find, Captain," rejoined Quilt, submissively; "but you're too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. But not today. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world.
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