‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. I often wonder why the young always take us ancients for nambypamby creatures. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton.
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