“I shall be very glad to have you for a friend,” he said, “loving friend. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. ‘I feared as much. . “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor.
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