The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. ‘And how do you propose to get in?’ ‘Scullery window. And no ill-chances. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. “Stop!” He ran towards her.
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