" "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. Yet she never once thought of changing it. The Ragged Edge. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn.
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