And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. You see, I’m selfish. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. This—all this swamps them. We sha’n’t hang up on any misunderstanding. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it.
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