"Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. ‘You will take the place of André?’ ‘Exactly so. In that sense, my strategy worked. ‘Imbecile. I must practise what I preach. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. My trouble is with your sister. Jonathan shook his head. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes.
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