The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. ” He was arrested for a moment by an indistinct picture of Veronica reading this last sentence. " "I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. Wild," cried Jack, placing his hat on the right arm of the guide-post, and leaning over the board, "I've done the trick myself. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery.
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