‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue.
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