The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. ’ ‘But there is still Remenham House. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless.
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