"Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire.
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