‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times. I have been imaging—” “Mr. ” “Two years ago,” she answered. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice.
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