“I don’t care a rap for remembering. It was the girl. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. Now, in her old place, she was doing her best thoroughly to enjoy a most indifferent dinner. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt.
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