“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703. Every slight action is influenced by what he imagines would be the opinion of other people. 3.
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