‘I’m a soldier, missie. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. It could not be a legal marriage. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. Everything had stayed the same during the centuries. No— no, it must never be. Were such a thing to happen again, I'd never let Mr. 1. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle.
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