If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. ‘She’s gone. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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