Kneebone took his leave. Something drew you. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. " "Bless you for it. Had he not said so? Not that she wished him to marry her. His eyes were fixed upon the tablecloth. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. It was no use. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man.
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