Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. I don’t know. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. Jonathan mixed with the group, and, sure of his prey, abided his time. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence.
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