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"You—will—say——" Here he breaks down ignominiously, and confesses by his inability to proceed that he doesn't in the least know what it is she can say. There is no disfigurement about him to be seen, no stain of blood, no ugly mark; yet he is touched by the pale hand of the destroyer, and is sinking, dying, withering beneath it. He has aged at least ten years within the last fatal hour, while in his eyes lies an expression so full of hungry expectancy and keen longing as amounts almost to anguish. "You are right," he says, with growing vehemence: "no man would do it. It is such a brilliant chance, such a splendid scheme——." He checks himself suddenly. Mona looks at him curiously, but says nothing. In a second he recovers himself, and goes on: "Yet because I will not relinquish my just claim you look upon me with hatred and contempt.".
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Conrad
"No, indeed," says Mona, laughing. "But it surely wasn't English, was it? That is not the way everybody talks, surely." "But who was this gentleman?" says Lady Rodney, superciliously. "No doubt some draper from the town." "I have only one thought," says the woman, sullenly, "I can't betther it. An' that is, that it was a bitther day when first I saw the light." So in silence, but hand in hand, they move back through the dewy meads, meeting no one until they reach the little wooden gate that leads to her home..
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