“You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. You’re not to go. I didn’t understand before that letter. ’ She giggled suddenly. " "Well, I never was more surprised in my life," said the poet,—"never!" "He's just the man I expected to see," observed Hogarth, who, having arranged everything to Thornhill's satisfaction, had turned to look at the prisoner, and was now with his chin upon his wrist, and his elbow supported by the other hand, bending his keen gray eyes upon him, "just the man! Look at that light, lithe figure,—all muscle and activity, with not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon it. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and I believe that you love me.
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