“I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. She had looked forward to an explanation. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet.
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