Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Montague Hill, and I do not think that under those circumstances I should be long about it. Moreover, he's a Yale University man, and he'd be good company. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Her husband was prouder of her every day.
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