"You mistake,—you are mine. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant—until I met your sister. What is there?” “Tristan. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent.
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