She regarded the young man coldly. “You will have to eat soon,” he said cryptically. "You remember that starling, Sir Rowland," he said maliciously, "and what occurred on it, twelve years ago?" "Too well," answered the knight, frowning. He called a waiter. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears.
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