‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. I wanted the magic of love. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall.
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