A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. He must be more or less of an age with this man. . ’ Reminiscence made him smile. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. “Okay. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. Though," said the thieftaker, with a complacent smile, "all the world seems to tremble at it. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him.
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