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He knew why. She had told him. God, Destiny, Fate, had come between her and the man she loved. The man had lost more than life in playing the part of a man. He was blind! Behind him were only memories that could not be buried. Before him only darkness, bleakness, despair. And he had done an heroic thing in giving her up. Helpless, powerless to support her, what else was there for him to do? So, in his love for her, he had dug a grave and in it buried Hope and all that God in His wise ordinance had allowed him to live and feel. And they had kissed and parted, kneeling beside this grave, cold lips to cold lips, broken heart to broken heart. It was the kiss on the cross which each must carry. "Have you no better clothes than what you wear?" he said. "No, I didn't. Joe had left for Bridgetown to bring in a couple of duck-hunters to old man Swanson's. Clevelanders, they are, so I didn't see him.".
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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"Well!" exclaimed Mr Lawrence, eyeing him with that sort of regard with which one views some hairy, human-like importation of the likeness of a man, and perhaps better looking than some men, from an Indian or South American forest. "There's the old Canopus!" cried the Admiral. "Lord, what a shivering [Pg 398]recollection I have of her main topmast cross-trees!" Mr Lawrence stood viewing her in silence for a few moments, and then approaching the table so that he stood close to her, he said in a voice of tenderness: He made another of his bows, and Mr[Pg 137] Lawrence saluting him with a slight smile and a lifted hat, passed on..
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